skipping.

Perfect Fall Days are here.

a lot of rain over a short period means

that the foliage has mostly fallen,

and what's left is yellow and brown.

nobody ever really wants to look at the grey skies framed
by trees that look like a bunch of sad old bananas.

and that means that there's nobody around,
no traffic, no tourists, no congested shops and streets,
and plenty of open spaces to see the world opening upwards-

and that's expert.

real fall times also mean that the air is getting crisply sharp and snappy.

uh huh.

sweaters and scarves and hats and all of that are back in full effect.

yeah.
for serious,
i'm pretty excited to get bundled back up,

and hide a whole lot of the awkward angles i'm composed of

under layers of warm woolen wraps an' that.

the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze almost makes the wind
seem sorta tolerable.
but only just sort of.
there's real life out there in front of us,
and under us,
and all around us,
and i'm pretty sure that it's becoming a season wherein
all the better parts and better people are surrounding us on all sides.
that opens the door for Folk Life fusiliers to spit hot fire down
with lightning-striking viking verbose virtuosity
that we've come to know so well.
y'know,
it's like an enfilade of expertism.
i think so, neighbors.
firing lines between the lines of written words,
battering and beating and bludgeoning them all
into shapes and sounds that resemble
worthy words and totally true stories about what's going on.
that is,
if there's anybody paying attention.
stories are for other people,
the spirits and memories of what's inside these clasped hands;
these clenched teeth;
these shut eyes;
the close kept savagery of the way it all fits together...
otherwise,
i'm only doing it all for myself,
and i already know what my secret heart holds in store.
y'know?
yeah.
i thought you might.
***********
oh, yeah...
the fair ended the other day.
i didn't even go for the last day.
long nights, hard times, harsh words, lost tempers,
and bad feelings spoiled it the night before,
and it spread out and into the next morning, day, and night.
hard styles know no bounds.
it just felt rotten, and looked stupid,
and really, it sort of was.
it's over and done with at any rate.
bye bye.
see you next year:

anyway, i'm sorry, friends.
it just doesn't ever get any better.
there's only more of all of this.
it's never easy,
but it's a whole helluva lot better than nothing;
never quiet, never soft.....